Damned, Dirty, Devoted
by Wrath Flamesoul
Summary: Love is patient. Love is kind. Love knows no boundaries, no laws, no fear. Love is the coming together of two hearts that beat in time with each other; love is the fire that burns when all other light has been destroyed.
1. Quartz and Ruby

**Disclaimer: **Kishimoto-senpai owns Naruto. Fortunately, he's drunk on eggnog – through _no _fault of my own, of course *hides empty eggnog carton behind back* - and signed a release paper for me. I now own the rights to Naruto. _NEEEEEJIIII~!_

**Quartz and Ruby**

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It isn't right. It shouldn't feel right. But then, right now you don't really care, do you?

Is it because of his hands going through your hair? His mouth on yours? Or is it simply that somewhere inside, you've known you wanted this for some time now?

This was supposed to be an assassination – you all agreed on that, didn't you? The remnants of that stupid little "Konoha Twelve" group that you never really wanted to be part of all gathered and decided it had to end, didn't they? Even you said it was for the best.

Didn't you? Didn't you say you thought it was better if he was dead? Didn't you say that, callous even while some of your "friends" cried over it?

So why is it that you're suddenly attacking him in a much different way than you had all planned? How are your hands going through his hair; how are your nails scraping along his back?

How is it that your fingertips – capable of causing such massive internal damage – are now running in odd, haphazard patterns along his flesh, never once releasing an ounce of those lethal attacks into his body? Aren't you supposed to be the one who carries out his orders without letting those pesky emotions get in the way?

Oh, right, wrong word. This isn't an emotional thing, right? You're just getting him to let his guard down. Trying to get those impressive muscles in his arms and back to loosen just enough to tell you he trusts you now, right?

Because that's the only story they'll believe if any of them finds this. They won't believe that you did this out of _need _– and truly, do you even want them to believe that? Do you believe it?

His mouth goes farther down now, to your throat. If it was anyone else, you would react differently, wouldn't you? You would push anyone else away if your throat was involved, but now?

Now you throw your head back as far as the pillows allow you to, exposing as much of your throat as possible and ignoring the surprised chuckle he lets out. He didn't expect you to react so strongly; though, to be fair, you didn't expect such a reaction, either.

Now is everything clear to that stubborn mind of yours? Can those "all-seeing" eyes of yours see the truth now?

You don't just enjoy this – you _crave _it, don't you? Even with all those ties to the people you're supposed to be loyal to, in the end, this isn't a trick, and you aren't waiting for him to let his guard down. You're doing this because your body _demands _it.

Or is it something even deeper than primal instinct?

You can tell he's going to leave marks on your skin – he's sucking on your flesh hard enough that your neck will be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don't really care, do you? All you can focus on is the feel of his teeth against your throat, the hot breath that comes gasping out onto your skin in random intervals that should be your cue to kill him.

And, for a moment, you almost remember your duty. Your hand slides up to his chest… but nothing happens. He tenses, ready to act according to your next move, but you can't bring yourself to do it, can you? You're already too deeply involved in this to want it to end.

You're already following your instincts, bowing to that deeply-buried lust you have for him, and so you can't do anything to hurt him now, can you? You made a mistake by letting him touch you this way, and now you can't do what your "friends" expect you to, can you?

After a moment, he comes to the same realization; shouldn't his quiet laughter be enough to enrage you? Didn't you use to loathe his smug superiority? So why does that mocking chuckle, in your ear, against your skin, suddenly make you want him even more?

Because by now you're practically _begging _him to hurry; not literally, of course, because your pride would never allow that, but aren't the moans and gasps that keep seething out from between your teeth enough to be considered begging all the same? He certainly seems to think so, not that he's actually _listening _to you. His only response is a chuckle that sounds very close to an animalistic growl, as if he's telling you to shut up and take it.

As if you can help it, right? As if you can honestly control yourself when he's pushing you to an insanity you didn't even know existed until now. Who knew he could be so good at dragging out the deepest secrets in a person – even the ones so deeply buried that not even the one hiding them knows what exactly they are?

His hands and mouth are moving lower again; now he's nipping at your collarbone, and his hands reach under your back and neck, holding you tightly, as if he thinks you can even _consider _running away at this point. Your fingernails start to draw blood from his shoulders and back as the ecstasy starts to take over your motor skills, and for a moment, you can see why he told you earlier that he enjoys the red shade of blood.

Earlier… when you first confronted him, did you know this would be the end result? Did you anticipate this moment of painful arousal, this torturous waiting for that one all too quick moment of pure bliss that would turn the whole world white?

When you caught him off guard – a feat in itself, truly – did you feel this same need then? Could you have brought yourself to kill him, perhaps, if he hadn't smirked at you in that damned inviting way of his? If he hadn't displayed a tiny hint of the same need you both very obviously submit to now?

But it was too late, even then, to try to do what was expected of you. He had already halted your attack before it could even begin.

And when he sauntered over to you, with that damn smirk still on his lips, you couldn't move – you blamed a paralysis jutsu, didn't you? You didn't want to admit to yourself that you let him approach you because your instincts had already taken over. Because that _need _had taken over.

It's amazing, isn't it, how little time it took to strip down once the door was locked. Once you were alone in this cheap hotel room he had checked into during his run from you and the others, it was as though nothing waited for you outside, wasn't it? It still seems that way, doesn't it?

His tongue flicks at one of your nipples now, and he isn't surprised this time when you react beyond what most would even think you're capable of. His blood rolls down your fingers as your nails jab sharply into his flesh, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. His hands go lower again, down to your ass, and you buck your hips, almost _demanding _that he stop toying with you.

Is it simply because you were never touched like this before? No, it isn't that no one ever touched you like this – you simply didn't _allow _anyone to touch you like this. Were you saving yourself for him? Did you somehow hope that this very moment was coming? If you did, did it never occur to you that while he was with that bastard pedophile – and even he had to know that was the sort of man he was betraying you for – he might have had this happen thousands of times? Or do you still think all this talent for making you desperate was natural, if he's as untouched as you wish he was?

How many times do you think he's begged for it to be over, so he could wash himself of every horrible thing that monster must have done to him? How many times do you think his thoughts wandered somewhere else while he pretended to enjoy what was being done to his body? How many hours do you suppose he spent holed up inside himself, waiting out the things the monster murmured in his ear?

He moans your name against the flesh of your stomach, and the raw need in his voice and your body sends fire coursing through your veins as you moan his name in response. Do you honestly think he doesn't want this just as badly? Do you think that this is the first time his thoughts were focused solely on you while his body was wracked with this sort of building tension?

You know he might just be doing this to feel dominant for once, don't you? You realize that he might just be using you to get rid of that last feeling of weakness left in him after what that sadistic bastard did. Does it bother you that for once, you aren't in control? Does it feel wrong to know you're the submissive one now, the one who should be openly begging and squirming under his touch?

No, of course not. You want this badly enough that you're willing to be submissive.

Because it's all for him, too, isn't it? This isn't just instinct, is it? That your body wants this as badly as it does is only a bonus. You don't really want him dead, do you? That was just the excuse you used to get close enough to him – and far enough away from the others – to have this happen, wasn't it?

His hands are pulling off the last shred of clothing you left on; the sight of your boxers falling off the edge of this cheap bed is a powerful aphrodisiac, isn't it? That's how close you are to being able to share that moment of total satisfaction with him.

His deep ruby eyes hold yours as he licks your shaft, sending waves of pleasure through you. You throw your head back again and clutch at the sandpaper-soft sheets as your back arches off the mattress. Did you think those stories you heard – and read, admit it – were exaggerating? Is that why you're surprised at how good and _right _this feels?

He takes your entire length into his mouth, again and again, and you can feel the first flickers of that desperately-needed white blaze start to lick at your body, even while you moan his name over and over, almost as though it's the only word you remember how to pronounce anymore. His reverberating chuckle causes quite an interesting reaction in you, doesn't it? Who knew that infuriating show of superiority could be so sensual, under the right circumstances?

Before you can peak, he stops, and you have to fight the urge to scream at him before you realize he's changing positions. You realize what he's doing before he even orders you to take advantage of the fact that his ass is suddenly in front of your face.

He tastes better than you expected, doesn't he? Even after every time the snake man must have done this to him, he's still willing to let you take an active role, instead of just forcing you to lay still and take what he's doing to you without resisting. You know what that has to mean, right? You know if he was just using you, he would never let you do this to him. Your hands wouldn't be free to grab his cheeks and spread them, and you sure as hell wouldn't be able to rim him.

If he was merely using you, your hands and feet would be tied to the four posts of the bed by now, and there would be no chance of him turning his back to you as he does now.

Do you suppose he'll care that you're leaving bite marks when the pleasure is too hard to handle? Do you suppose the pain when he sits or lies down after this will be irritating? No more irritating than the bruises on your neck will be when your teammates ask about them, surely. Will you lie, and say it was for the good of a mission that you lowered your standards to get important information? Or perhaps you'll resort to filching perfume from one of your cousins to hide the bruises entirely. Maybe you should call in sick?

He's starting to nip at your member now, and the moans coming from your throat and his are almost identical in their urgency. He suddenly rolls off to the side and switches positions again, so that he's hovering over you like before. You know what's coming, don't you? You know this means you give up every shred of pride before him from now on, but you don't rally care, right?

He leans down and starts nipping at your throat and shoulder, then slams into you with such force that you scream against his hair before your body has time to react at all. He pulls almost entirely out and rams into you again, and again, and again, each thrust bringing less pain and more pleasure as he begins to moan again. The feel of his skin pulsing above your length is enough keep you going, too, and the world suddenly explodes into white flames as that moment you've both been waiting for finally erupts.

It's better than you'd hoped, isn't it? The flames devour everything, even feeling, and for one moment the two of you are lost in an endless expanse of white. The only sounds here are your screams as you cry out each other's names. Every muscle in your body – and in his, too – tenses as the fire shoots into your blood.

This is bliss, isn't it? This is what truly makes lust just as enjoyable as love, but there's something more behind this than simple lust, isn't there? As he collapses on top of you, your blood coloring his lips, you don't feel any spite or sense of duty anymore, do you? He's weak now, vulnerable, but you still won't finish the job and kill him, will you?

You know what this means, don't you? You can't go back to Konoha if you don't kill him. It's been long and loud enough now that if he isn't dead in the morning, your teammates will know what went on in this cheap hotel room. They'll know you helped him – they'll accuse you of betraying them, and even if they go easy on you, things won't ever be the same again, will they?

Do you really think that stupid pink-haired ditz and her blonde "teammate" will forgive you for even _looking _at him without his clothes on?

So which is it, genius? Do you want to go home again? Or do you want to stay with the man you love – even if you'll never admit that's what you feel for him?

You carefully move so that you can pull that disputably filthy blanket over your bodies, and within moments, the exhaustion takes hold. You sleep deeply for the first time in years, peaceful despite the fact that you've changed your life forever.

Because you've always wanted this… haven't you?

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**Author's Note: Merry Christmas, assholes! Nah, I'm just kidding, you guys are all right. X3**

**Because there's such a disgustingly poor selection of NejiSasu stories out there, I decided to write one of my own as sort of an early Christmas present to you guys. Come on, admit it, you wish there was more NejiSasu love on the interwebz, too.**

**And to those of you who were hoping for another chapter of "Through Fire and Shadow", don't worry; I'm about halfway done with the next chapter. It'll be up sometime during Christmas break, if not sooner. In the meantime, enjoy the NejiSasu goodness.**


	2. Ember and Crystal

**Disclaimer: **I made the very foolish mistake of trying to attack Itachi after he burned the shed full of papers giving me official ownership of the _Naruto _franchise. If you've never had your ass kicked by Susano'o, let me advise you now to never call Itachi a "mangy, brother-fucking weasel" to his face while trying to kick him in the jimmies. Where's the damn Ouch Mouse…?

This time we get to look through Sasuke's eyes! Yay, emo bastards!

**Apology Again: **I've decided that NejiSasu goodness is currently of higher priority than Through Shadow and Fire chapters. So sorry.

**Ember and Crystal**

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It was easier than you thought it would be, wasn't it? Getting him to submit to you took hardly any effort at all. Of course, you knew in the back of your mind that he wouldn't fight you, didn't you? Somewhere in your mind, before you even decided that this would happen should he confront you alone, you already guessed that he would be so willing to let you do this.

His eyes burn up at you now like pieces of stone lit by some strange, immortal fire. Except that you know what that fire is, even as you think of it as alien. You've seen the same look in your own eyes, in those precious few moments you had to yourself while you were with that bastard pedophile. You know need when you see it, fool – don't even try to tell me otherwise. You don't even believe that you're so naïve that you can't understand the way he's acting now.

The way _you're _acting now.

It's always been like this, hasn't it? Even with your countless admirers – some of whom weren't honestly that hard on the eyes – you never felt this way, did you? True, you were still young, but the ghost of this compulsion never really reached you until the Chunin exams, did it?

Not until you saw him. Not until you spoke to him that first time.

His hands grab at your biceps so hard you can feel your own pulse squeezing through the constriction. This should be painful, but right now you're only focused on making him feel as desperate as you have before in his presence. You want him to come as close to insanity as you've been, don't you? How selfish of you.

He's only haunted your thoughts in every lonely moment you were graced with. He's only pushed your body into such a state of fervent need that you found yourself waking up some nights in sheer _agony. _It was only the thoughts of this moment that were able to relieve that pain. Well, those thoughts wand the way you spent that "alone time," right? Come on, don't try to deny it – your hand still carries your scent from the fantasizing you did this morning.

It was easier to leave when it was your idiot blonde teammate who caught up with you, wasn't it? Easier to believe that _he _didn't want you enough to come after you, but you knew the truth. When the clumsy idiot told you "everyone" was fighting for you, you didn't really believe he hadn't also meant the one boy who could have made you stay, did you?

How bad was it, brat? How hard was that first time with the snake bastard? How much did it hurt to have him touching you in ways no one had that right to without your permission? How much did it infuriate you to know you had to live with this if you wanted the power to truly defeat your brother? (Poor fool, but how could you have known your precious nii-san was an innocent pawn in a vile game?)

How long did it take to put your true desire in the place of the old pedophile who did such disgusting things to you whenever he chose? How hard was it, the first time you tried, to imagine a much more desirable partner was with while you moaned and pretended, for your sake, that you enjoyed what was said and done?

His moans are like breathless growls now, aren't they? You can almost feel his need turning into something much more desperate. How much pain do you think he's in? How much more do you think he can take?

Oh, wow, nice response, brat. Even _I _could feel the hormones there. You're really getting off on tormenting him, aren't you? And he's certainly not appreciating the taunting smirk you're giving him; he growls a little louder this time, which of course only heightens the hormonal reaction. You lean down and start nipping his ear, and a gasp drags itself from his throat, as though he can't breathe. His nails dig into your skin, and soon you can feel blood – _your _blood – trailing down your arms, moving quickly despite the shallow wounds it comes from.

Your pulse is getting a little haphazard there, isn't it? Are you perhaps not as in control as you would like me to think you are?

Blood pools in your mouth as your teeth bite down hard on his earlobe, startling a sort of surprised moan from him that resonates through both of your bodies. You feel the muscles in your chest and abdomen writhe as you momentarily enjoy the surge of pleasure that's been coursing through you since you managed to get him alone.

Not that getting him alone was all that difficult. He found you here, in this cheap little inn just outside one of the many unknown villages in the Land of Grass, and followed you of his own volition to the room you've been staying in for the last two days and nights. He thought at that time he was the hunter, but he was wrong, wasn't he?

Because you knew he was following you. You had felt his presence before you came to this place, and recognized it almost immediately, despite the years that had passed. You knew he was closing in, and you knew he was alone. The trap was already set at that point.

Because of course they would send a Gentle Fist master after you first. He would be the most likely of their pathetic little group to cause you enough damage that you would be weak enough for the others to be able to finish off. They might have hoped to catch you off guard, but you knew enough about them now to be sure of how they would act.

So you let him watch you return here, even when he sat out in the open on the second day and waited for you to notice him. You saw him, but you let him think you were too focused on something else to notice his presence so close to you.

Was it hard to walk right by him and _not _acknowledge him? Was it painful, knowing he might surprise you and leave before your trap could have the chance to work?

Almost as much as it hurt during that last hour, before the bar next door closed, when you thought that he had really left to get reinforcements, right? Almost as much as it hurt to wait until that very last moment, and still see nothing of him until you left the place. The relief when you saw him across the street was something you were new to, wasn't it? You'd never been happier to see someone in your life.

And then to hear and feel him so close behind you, to know that he was truly following you – _alone –_ that's not a feeling you get to experience every day.

Was it hard to wait for him to finish getting his room (even though you both knew it was just an excuse for him to be upstairs)? Was it hard to wait for him to walk into your room – hard to keep your back turned to him as though you hadn't noticed he'd come in?

His hands move from your arms to your back now, clutching at the muscles there and leaving more small scratches in your flesh. You can feel his mouth on your neck, sucking at the skin there. You can feel his tongue sweeping across your skin, sending pins and needles down the length of your spine and eliciting a moan from somewhere deep in your chest. Damn it, and you thought this was entirely your moment, didn't you? Looks like he's not _quite _as submissive as you'd like, but that somehow doesn't bother you, does it?

His hands start to move to your chest, and for one tense moment, you brace yourself for an attack. Could he have been submitting just to get you to lower your guard?

You raise your head and look into his eyes. Are you surprised to find confusion in them? Are you surprised to find that he is just as unsure of what he will do as you are?

_Now, _fool. He's hesitating; don't give him the time he needs to remember what he _should _be doing. Unless, of course, you _want _him to have to put something over your body so he can show the others you were careless enough to let him kill you.

You lean down and kiss the spot where his ear and jaw line connect, and his hands tremble and almost go limp against your chest. You flick your tongue out to tease the bite mark on his ear and his hands slide up the lengths of your arms, back to your shoulders again. Does he groan in defeat, or is he still reacting to your "expertise?"

The look on his face when you used your chakra to "materialize" behind him was almost precious, wasn't it? Never had that arrogant face shown any surprise or – even though you still can't believe it – fear. But it did then. He was surprised at your speed. He showed fear when you closed and locked the door, and threw the key to a corner of the room. Only then did he realize he hadn't been in control of any part of this cat and mouse game he'd played with you.

He's already entirely naked, of course; between half-heartedly trying to fight you off and eventually giving up and tearing your shirt open, I wonder if he ever noticed you cutting away his clothes with the knife you'd kept in your hand, just in case he wouldn't wait for you to turn around before jumping at you. If he did, it was probably only because he felt the tip of the knife scrape into his skin. The marks in his sides and legs are still bright red, even though the bleeding has stopped now.

And as for you? Well, since you didn't exactly let him pull away long enough to get lower than your shirt, you sort of had to work at that while you were getting on top of him. You managed – after several of your own injuries, of course. Couldn't exactly let him have enough time to get up, could you? Bet cutting your only outfit up was a bitch, wasn't it?

Come on, runt, at some point you'll need to move lower. Either drive him just close enough to the edge that you can let his arms go, or tie his hands to the damn bed.

Oh, no. Wait a minute; it looks like he's starting to relax now, too. Well, not _relax, _but at least he isn't fighting you anymore. You can't help the taunting smirk that spreads across your face again, can you? Maybe you do it on purpose, just to see him glare at you again. He growls at you again and digs his nails into you arms, but now that you're already thinking about moving down to his member, you ignore you idiot pride for once and do what he wants.

How does it feel to have him vulnerable like this – to have him almost entirely under your control? Do you understand how simple it would be to kill him now? One little Chidori – he probably wouldn't even notice what you were doing until it was too late. Until he was already dead.

Whoops, what that the wrong thing to suggest? Seems you've suddenly got the urge to hurt him. What is it about the thought of him bleeding before you that makes it so hard to control yourself? Maybe you really have spent too much time with perverted old sadists – not just the snake bastard, but the only other member of your clan alive now. The one who told you the truth about your brother and goaded you into killing the seventh Hokage.

Come on, don't lie. It was the same thing all over again – it was just easier to pretend with the snake bastard, and easier to block the memories out entirely with the schizo. No wonder your brother wanted him to stay away from you. The things the schizo did were too horrible even for me to dredge up for you – you should be thankful for that, at least.

You can feel the muscles in his abdomen cringe and writhe as you drag one set of nails from his collarbone down to his thigh. His hands drop from your shoulders and clutch the sheets as pain and pleasure war over his body. It feels like every muscle you touch is pulsating and writhing with his need.

_Now, damn it, _he growls at you, _Stop dragging it out._

Oh, feisty, isn't he? You smirk up at him and drag your tongue very lightly across the plane above his member, drawing a hiss from him as his back arches off the mattress. His knuckles go white as he fights against another moan. Looks like he's done playing the victim. Too bad you're not done with the power play.

You slide up so that you're nose to nose with him again and stare into his eyes. Your hands bring his up to the sides of his head, pinning them there as your fingers lace through his.

_I'll take as long as I please, Hyuga. _Your voice is low and hoarse with your own need, and tempered with your irritation that he isn't cooperating entirely. He glares back up at you, his pride getting in the way as always. Apparently you really are going to have to cut your fun short.

Come on, have a little pity. Or have you forgotten how it feels to be completely submissive, vulnerable to whatever your partner decides to do to you? Don't make me remember what the schizo did to you – this man isn't the only one who wants this to reach its climax. And don't tell me to shut up; if I was lying, you wouldn't be so defensive.

You lean down and lick his ear, sending shivers through his body. He moans loudly and presses up against you, no longer demanding but _pleading _for you to finish it. Have you had quite enough fun tormenting him now? Or are you simply tired of holding back? Don't think I can't feel how much pain _you're _in, brat.

You slip two of your fingers into your mouth, wetting them before you thrust them into his opening. Immediately you find that area where the sensitive bundle of nerves is, and he lets out a breathless cry that's nearly a shout. His body turns to a squirming mass of stone as you drive him close to his breaking point. His eyes squeeze shut; his mouth opens in wordless gasps as he throws his head back, exposing his throat.

Perfect.

You lean down and put your lips to his throat, sucking on the flesh there as he continues to moan and writhe. You take your fingers from his opening and ram into him before he has time to react. With your teeth scraping lightly against his neck, you can feel his voice reverberate into your mouth as he screams in agony. His hands fly up to claw at your back as you keep driving into him, not letting the pain fade away between thrusts. As soon as you move to nip at the side of his neck, he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his cries and drawing blood from the deep wounds he's just inflicted.

You growl and bite down just as hard on the side of his neck, but by now you're both too far along to feel any pain – much less react sensibly to it. You might be in trouble if one of his teammates is nearby and heard him screaming like that. Then again, he won't exactly get a hero's welcome, either.

He surprises you by suddenly grabbing your arms and twisting until he's got you pinned. You hiss as you're forced to pull out of him, but he ignores you, still sucking up the blood pouring from your shoulder as he positions himself. You barely have time to tell him to stop before he slams into you.

Hurts, doesn't it? Your insides feel like they're on fire – like they're being torn in half as he pounds into you again and again, and now you're the one who has to try to stifle his screams as the pain and quickly-growing pleasure drive you towards your climax. Soon it's almost impossible to breathe; your lungs are constricting under the ecstasy he's putting you through.

Through the blood roaring in your ears, you can hear him murmuring something in a voice so husky it's almost a deep whisper.

_Do you think you're the only one who needs this? Did you think this was one-sided, Uchiha?_

Fire tears at you as you finally cum against his stomach, and you squirm and cry out uncontrollably as the rapture takes you. There is nothing in this moment – no sound, no scent, no taste. Any awareness you had before is burned away in the white fires that burn behind your eyelids and deep under the surface of your skin. Only the thrill – so intense it rests upon the line between pain and bliss – greets you in this centuries-long second. All you can do is scream, and the only word that comes to your lips is his name as you feel him join you in the searing heat.

As one, your bodies writhe against each other until the fires die down, leaving you both exhausted and gasping for air. He collapses on top of you, moaning something too slurred by his weariness for you to understand, though it isn't hard to guess what he says, is it? What else is there to say after something so powerful?

He drifts off almost immediately afterward, breathing lightly against the hollow at the base of your neck. You would be content to let him stay like that, but for the first time you realize how frigid the room is. As drenched in sweat – and other things, obviously – as you both are, there's no way the two of you can sleep naked and uncovered. Where is that pesky blanket when you need it?

Oh, that's right, it's on the floor. Because you two kicked it off the bed while you were screwing each other. Way to go, genius. Now you have to figure out how to crawl out from under him and grab the stupid thing without waking him up.

Have fun with that.

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**Author's Note: Did that blow your MIIIIIIIIIIIIND? (I love the ending. So beautifully evil. XD)**

**For those of you who don't know (aka, anyone who hasn't read the manga or watched the English subbed Naruto Shippuden episodes), the schizo would be Madara/Tobi. Anybody who can pull off such a high-pitched, whiny, sloppy, ignorant role when he's the exact opposite has to have something wrong with his head. Besides, I only promised Madara screen time; I said nothing about said screen time being **_**dignified. **_**(And yes, I do enjoy making fun of people who can kick my ass to Kingdom Come. I may be slightly psychotic that way.)**

**I liked making fun of Sasuke in this. And I've always sort of imagined that Sasu-chan's subconscious would be more bitter and insulting than Neji's. Come on, Sasuke lived with **_**Orochimaru **_**for two years – if that didn't make him even more of an asshole, I don't know what would!**


	3. Shrike and Sparrow

**Disclaimer: **Itachi found Sasori and had him create the antidote to the drug I slipped into Kishimoto-senpai's eggnog, and now they're forcing me to relinquish the rights to _Naruto_. What they don't know is that I've made millions of copies of the contract hidden away in the shed out back… Which is… being burned by Itachi's Amaterasu… Damn it… I still own Neji, you fiends! *throws Neji over shoulder and runs away*

**Apology: **GOMENASAI! I know I said the new chapter was coming soon, but I really liked writing in Neji's point of view and I promised one of you (you know who you are) another NejiSasu with Neji on top! Please forgive me! *bows*

**Shrike and Sparrow**

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Unexpected, wasn't it? The power of the instinct, I mean. The lust. The need.

Unexpected how good it feels to have him writhing under you, trying to bite back moans and growls as they try to respond to what you're doing to him. Incredible, isn't it, to feel the wiry muscles in his arms surge against your hands as you pin him down, refusing to allow him to get up. Apparently his physical strength isn't _quite _what everyone expected, but that only makes it easier to dominate him now.

His flesh tastes so good, doesn't it? Or is it the sweat rolling off it that's making it harder to take it slow? Quite the situation you're in: do you want to savor this newfound dominance, or do you want to get to the part where the pleasure takes total control of your bodies? Such a difficult decision to make; I can't wait to see which you go for.

There wasn't really any fighting it, was there? All you knew was that he was there in front of you with that damn smirk on his face – as if he thought you wouldn't have the guts to get him alone – and you'd already had a drink, right? But let's be honest: that one cup of sake wasn't enough to throw your inhibitions to the sea, not after all the after-mission drinking games your idiot teammates forced you to play along with. It would have taken three bottles of sake at a minimum before losing yourself to the alcohol would have been a good excuse.

No, the truth is that you wanted him – and you didn't care what anyone who found out would think.

He finally gives up trying to stay quiet, and his quiet growls reverberate through the skin of his throat and into your lips as you suck on the tender flesh there. You're trying so hard not to tell him to shut up, aren't you? You're enjoying this far too much to let his overgrown ego spoil this moment. Still, you can feel a smirk pull at your pursed lips as you start to nip at his neck. A startled gasp rips from his chest before he can stop it, surprising you both.

Under your stomach, you can feel the muscles in his torso turn to stone as he fights against another outburst. You have a bit of a fight of your own for a moment – one of your hands tries to move away from his arm, only for you to halt its progress in time to feel the muscles there harden again.

It's supposed to be an assassination, genius. You're supposed to be fighting him to the death, weakening him so that the others will have a chance at killing him. You all agreed to that, didn't you? All of you – even the stupid pink-haired ditz who's still in love with him for reasons none of you can comprehend.

You move up to his ear, nipping at his earlobe and resisting the urge to laugh when he starts moaning freely. _That _was what you've been trying to get out of him, that release, that acceptance that you're in control now. You grin as another half-moan, half-growl ripples through his chest.

It was so easy to get him to follow you to this little upstairs room – bought only after you'd given the manager the remainder of your funds, despite the fact that this "private room" smells foul after who knows how many months of neglect by room service. All you had to do was give him one loaded glance and he was after you like a cat after a mouse. Too bad for him he had the roles reversed, but then, perhaps that only made his shock all the more pleasurable.

His arms move, and before you can react, his hands are gripping your biceps tightly enough to mark your pale skin. You raise your head to see a very hungry look on his features, and you notice the slight quiver of his upper lip, as though he's fighting back a snarl.

You smirk and ask him what the problem is, and he responds in a voice so husky it's just a growling whisper.

_Don't toy with me, Hy uga._

Well, apparently he's not as willing to submit as you would have liked. Somehow, though, that doesn't kill the mood; quite the opposite, isn't it? The knowledge that he won't roll over for you almost makes you even more eager than before. For a moment you forget that you're supposed to be amused by his show of obstinacy.

You smirk at him, letting your lips part just enough to let him see the teeth behind them. If he thinks a little growling and snarling is going to make you give up on this now, he's a fool, and by the look in his onyx-toned eyes, you know he can see that in your face. He grimaces and turns his head away, growling under his breath.

The look on his face when you locked the door to this obviously well-used, rotting hole of a room was sort of refreshing, wasn't it? You enjoyed seeing him caught off guard for once, right? Obviously you did, because that look of wary confusion only added to your need to have him under you.

Interesting. And here you thought he was stubborn. Could it be that this raven-haired man underneath you wants this more than he's letting on? There's only one way to find out, and that's to tease him even more.

Gingerly you release one of his arms, pausing just above the still-pulsing muscles to see if he'll react. When he doesn't try to shove you off, your hand finds its way to his hair, twisting in the soft strands to tilt his head back. Not as hard as you thought it would be, is it? It's almost like he's not really trying to fight you, isn't it?

You lean down and run your tongue from the base of his neck to the edge of that strong jaw, drawing a deep-throated moan from him as his back arches off the mattress, pressing his torso against yours so that you can feel the pounding of his heartbeat against his ribcage. Perhaps he can feel your heartbeat, too.

The sheets are still tangled and haphazard after you all but pounced on him. Remember how his face looked when you stalked towards him? When you pushed him onto the mattress and pinned him down, remember how, for one second, you could see the anticipation flash in his eyes?

Your other hand comes off his arm, faster than before, more careless now that your blood is rushing so badly. Your free hand grips his neck, pushing up against that spot on his jaw that forces his mouth open before your lips connect almost violently with his. Surprisingly, his tongue forces its way into your mouth almost desperately, before you even have time to run your tongue along the edges of his teeth. In your shock, your jaw clenches, and a moment later he snarls what sounds like a swear word at you and yanks his tongue back out of your teeth.

You pull away long enough to snarl back at him before going for his mouth again. This time you think twice about trying to force your tongue into his mouth, certain that he'll try to get even with you. For the second time, he takes your say in the matter away.

His hands twist in your hair, pulling you down until your neck and his are so tightly pressed together that both of you can feel the breath rasping through each other's throats. His tongue slides into your mouth, slower his time, pressed tightly against your top teeth. When you don't clamp down this time, he maneuvers that tongue to somehow wrap around yours, pressing against it demandingly.

Slowly, you let your tongue slide into his mouth, tasting the blood from the small cut you left on his flesh. The salty taste only seems to make you even more eager to take him, but he still won't let you go. You try to pull away, only to have his hands grip your hair until your scalp burns. When you do the same to him, feral growls tear from your throat and his in a sort of miniature power struggle. For one moment your eyes lock onto each other, ruby and quartz, fire and ice. Neither of you are willing to give up at this point, are you?

Finally he releases his hold on your hair, and you're able to pull back and move down to his abs, trailing your bloodstained tongue down the length of his body while he shivers with the waves of pleasure going through his body. His hands are still in your hair, and you can feel him pushing ever so slightly on your scalp, urging you to go lower. You respond by moving even slower, drawing nonsensical patterns on his skin with bloody saliva while his irritated growls fade into moans that almost plead for you to stop fooling around and finish it.

_What's the matter, Uchiha? Am I not moving fast enough for you?_

The words slide out of your mouth in a seductive purr that seems to confuse him when paired with your mocking tone of voice. He finally settles on a growled, half-formed swear before your lips move lower, down to the perfectly-toned plane just above his member. His muscles writhe now against your mouth, and you can hear the low, barely audible moan that's just on the edge of being a whimper. His fingers tangle your hair as he clenches his fists into tight, desperate vices.

Have you had quite enough now? You can't tell me you aren't just as eager as he is at this point. He's still got his boxers on; you managed to throw yours off while you were pinning him in just the right position. That was on purpose, wasn't it? You're going to make him whimper and beg you a little more before you finish this, aren't you?

Because, let's face it, you like it this way. You like having complete control, almost as much as you like knowing that the other person will do anything you demand for that one second of relief. It's your high; the reason you used to be so sadistic when you battled against your peers. After you gave up on that, you had no way to relieve that urge to control. It's just been building up, hasn't it?

You slide your tongue under the elastic band of his boxers, just far enough that you can feel his shaft with the tip of your tongue. He bucks his hips again, violently, and a moan so high pitched that it sounds feminine tears from his throat. His nails dig demandingly into your scalp.

Are you finished with your little power play? You've still got quite a way to go before either of you can come the way you both want to.

Oh, what a surprising twist. Are you finally beginning to realize that this isn't simply lust? Now, on the edge of insanity, with this new longing to take him, can you see what you blinded yourself to before?

It's been there all along, fool. You know it's been there, from day one. You've pushed it away, haven't you? You were afraid you would seem weak… that he wouldn't feel the same, and you would only make a fool of yourself. Looks like you were wrong. Look at how he reacts, fool. Listen to him, moaning and whimpering and doing everything he can in the position you've put him in to make you finish this.

He wants you, too. Maybe he's wanted you as long as you've wanted him.

This doesn't totally screw things up, does it? You'll only be despised by everyone you know if this comes to light. You might even be charged for treason, letting Sasuke live – let's just ignore the fact that you're _screwing him_.

His former teammates – and whatever team he has now – will never forgive you. They'll hate you for this. They'll call it rape. You've just marred your name forever, genius. No reason to stop now, though; the damage is already done, and he could still kill you if you stop. He'll think it was the alcohol, since he doesn't know about your team's drinking games.

Besides, why stop when you're so close to that release you both so desperately need?

My, that was fast. And just a moment before, his boxers were securely around his waist. Somehow they've found their way to his foot – how did they slide off the other one, anyway? Those shallow scratches in his skin, spaced far enough to belong to your fingernails, could be a clue. A little hasty now, aren't we?

You use your knees to spread his legs, both you aren't ready to enter him, not yet. You take his member in your mouth and suck on it, nearly choking when he thrusts further into your mouth. You can taste the sweat and precum, and the taste of it almost makes you lose it. Almost.

You stop just before he can come, and he lets out a primal sound that's so close to a scream that it hurts your ears. He swears violently at you, and his nails dig into the skin on your shoulders until you can feel your own blood streaming down your arms and back.

You don't like that, do you? The screaming. It makes him sound vulnerable to you, weaker than when he was whimpering, more defenseless than when his tongue was caught in your teeth. It makes you want very badly to ease whatever pain you've put him through.

How did your mouth end up on his again? Suddenly you're looking him in the eye, trying to silence him with whatever he might see in your eyes now. Can he sense that you're close to finishing now? Your hands are on his shoulders – not to restrain (though his nails burn deep gashes into your skin), but to reassure. Slowly, his hands relax again, and you let him calm down without breaking the kiss.

There, he's still now. You pull away and lean down to kiss the side of his neck, positioning yourself before clamping down on his skin and thrusting into him. He screams, and his nails dig so deep you wonder for a moment if he'll scratch the bones there. You already know to expect bruises from those long fingers.

You don't let the pain subside – you know that will only make the next thrust just as painful. Instead you keep thrusting, letting the adrenalin and building ecstasy determine your speed. With every cringe or choked scream, you whisper in his ear.

Do you know you're telling him something he's only heard a few times before, from people who are either dead or unimportant to him now? Do you have any idea what effect those words might have on him, if he's still clear-minded enough to hear and understand you?

Imagine, if you can at this point, what he must have been through, those years while he was under that snake bastard's control. Imagine what disgusting, vile, inhuman things must have been done to him to satisfy the cravings of that perverted old man. Do you suppose he realized he was handing himself over to a pedophile? Do you think that perhaps that was the true reason he finally did away with that monster?

Maybe he did it for you. Maybe he'd had enough of pretending to crave what was done to him while that _thing _was torturing him? I wonder if that's where those scars that pattern his skin came from. He'd have you think it was from his training, but he couldn't really expect you to believe that, right? Do you suppose he was tired of pretending it was you who touched him in ways no one had a right to touch him?

No one but you.

_There._

With one last thrust, fire sears both of you, consuming reality and leaving you alone in nothingness. Your voices are a symphonic duet, baritone and baritone, screaming your names to whoever cares to listen. The moment seems to last forever, and yet, all too soon, it's over. You pull out, barely able to summon the strength to move after such a powerful rapture as that, and collapse on top of him, panting heavily.

He's already drifting off. He says your name again in a broken moan and closes his glassy black eyes. You barely find the energy to kiss him one more time before your body refuses to move.

This is it. He's asleep now, and probably won't wake up for a long time, even though his training would have left him a very light sleeper. Now's your last chance. If you kill him now, you can say you were simply trying to catch him off guard. They'll swallow it, even if they don't approve of your methods. It wouldn't take much to kill him… Your gear is only a few feet away, if you don't have the energy for one of your infamous Gentle Fist attacks. A knife to the throat wouldn't be so hard, right?

You close your eyes and drift away, letting the weariness have you.

* * *

**Author's Note: Another what-if version of Neji hunting Sasuke down, this time with Neji acting much more predatory. Again, it's Neji's subconscious talking to him, since it's fun to write Neji's point of view like that. I'm not sure which Neji I like more…**

**I don't think I like this story as much. It feels too… rushed. I don't know. You guys tell me. I do like how much Neji's subconscious makes fun of him in this one, though. X3**

**Oh, and a shrike is a small songbird, kind of similar in appearance to a sparrow. It's up to you who's who this time.**

**Merry Christmas, guys. See you in 2010!**


	4. Ravage and Atone

**Disclaimer: **Neji somehow got out of the handcuffs I used to chain him to my bed, so now I'm forcing Sasuke and Madara to help me find him. Actually, Madara sort of told me it was either have him tag along and get some screen time or be forced into a dark closet with him for an hour. Unfortunately for him, he has _very _nice abs. But he's still going to tag along anyway.

**Apology: **I REGRET NOTHING! BAHAHAHAHA -cough- HAHAHAHAHA -hack, cough- HA -gag- *passes out* _**This is Madara speaking. I'm taking Wrath and never bringing her back. **_Wheee~…

**Ravage and Atone**

**

* * *

**

Two boys, both alike in stubbornness and pride, meet for the first time in the Chunin exams. They look upon each other with cold indifference, and speak to ach other as though thy have been bitter enemies from birth. Neither backs down. Neither admits that the other intimidates him. Neither looks away until their teammates drag them in separate directions.

Later, in the forest, the two boys come into contact with each other again. One is unconscious and still in unbelievable agony, and the other is nearby, watching as his teammates help to fight off those who attack the other's team. One awakens and nearly destroys the opponents; the other watches on, too afraid to help or hinder the darkness he bears witness to.

In the preliminary rounds, one watches as the other is felled soon after barely winning his match. The watcher tries not to show his worry and anger, but it ends up going beyond his control and he almost murders his own cousin when she dares to verbally defy him for the first time in her life.

In the final rounds, one worries excessively as he fights against _another _non-believing scum bag. This time he loses and discovers the truth of his father's death. As he comes to terms with his past as it truly took place, a small part of him wonders how his… equal is faring in his match.

Outside, one is fighting against what can only be described as a monster. A part of him wonders a little dejectedly why the other isn't watching him now – was he disgusted by the show of weakness a month earlier?

The village is attacked; one follows after the monster and fights to protect his teammates as best he can. The other runs through the village, desperately trying to find his equal while he cuts down any opponent in his way. Both are terrified for the other, but neither will admit to themselves.

One is enticed into leaving to join an old pedophile with an affinity for serpents and forbidden jutsu. The other tries as hard as he can to stay with his group, but in the end must place his trust in another as he fights against an enemy that nearly kills him. The other wakes in a hospital days later, cursing himself for his failure and vowing to meet his equal again, hopefully someday in the near future. His equal arrives at the rendezvous point where the snake pedophile waits greedily for him, and heaves a sigh of relief when he discovers he will be allowed another two years of life – plenty of time to find his equal again.

The Konoha ninja becomes a Chunin, and then a Jonin in the following years. His heart aches with each passing day, and he begins to fear that he might never see _that man_ again.

The missing ninja is forced into years of hell, taken advantage of by the pedophile and that _disgusting _tongue of his. With every night he is abused, he becomes more advanced in the art of love making, and more skilled in the art of supplementing his equal in this place of the vile monster he is bound to.

One day, the years of torment becomes too much, and the feeling that he has betrayed his heart's desire by laying with the bastard pedophile drives him to murder his rapist teacher, destroying his essence so that he is free to leave this hellish place – or so he assumes.

They come so close to meeting each other – not once but again and again. How many of their missions and travelings put them so close to each other that it was only cruel irony that kept them from sensing each other?

One finally succeeds in his goal of murdering his family's killer, but another perverted sadist – this one his family's _founder _– gets a hold of him. Before the hell starts over again, this one learns that the man he killed did everything in his power to keep peace and protect him. Agony shatters his willpower, and he falls readily into the hands of the schizophrenic megalomaniac who is too powerful to fight against.

The other discovers his desire's success, and then learns the truth behind it. Sorrow and fury fill his soul, and he abandons his village in an attempt to find the other before someone else kills him. No family loyalty remains – there is only the need to see _him _again.

Somehow, they encounter each other at last – one managing to rid himself of both the schizophrenic and his little pet plant man, the other not caring anymore what happens to him, just so long as he could see his secret love one last time.

They meet at a small clearing where the sunlight shines like liquid gold. One cannot take his eyes from him; the other cannot move towards him.

And so at last the dance begun.

܍܍܍

How painful is it, Uchiha?

How painful is it, standing there, looking at me after the way you _abandoned _me? It's been three long, agonizing years since you left me. Do you have any idea how much I want to hate you right now? Any idea at all how _vile _and _despicable _it is to realize there isn't a shred of hatred in me? I want so badly to hurt you, to make you feel the suffering you put me through… And yet at the same time I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms, to have your skin touch mine and _know _it's really you.

I've been denying my feelings for you for years… and now here you stand, looking as though you could care less if I loved you or not.

܍܍܍

_Neji took seven long, deliberate, slow strides towards Sasuke, fists clenching and loosening. His target stood motionlessly, watching the advancing man with eyes that saw everything and nothing at all. Those eyes…_

܍܍܍

You look so pissed, Hyuga. What exactly were you expecting me to do when you finally caught up to me?

I hope you weren't expecting a water show, Neji. Obviously I'm not the type to cry over silly little reunions. After everything I've done for that megalomaniacal Madara, do you really still believe there's anything left for me to shed but blood? I have followed Itachi's footsteps — I have destroyed my emotions and become the ultimate ninja for my sacrifice. Itachi never wept after that night; neither will I ever weep again.

I wonder, though; what sort of stimulus would it take to break you? I wonder how far I will push you before you're simply too easy to control…

܍܍܍

_Neji halted in front of Sasuke, and the two stared each other down, one glaring, one smirking sardonically as thoughts twisted by years of pain and despair raced through his mind._

_A simple question murmured from between Sasuke's lips — "You gonna cry, Hyuga?" — and before he knew it, Neji's fist came racing towards his jaw._

܍܍܍

_Fuck _you, Uchiha!

Dammit. Damn _you. _Damn the bastards that turned you into this… this _thing._ Go to hell, where you belong! And while you're at it, get rid of that damn confidence before I tear that smug little grin right off your damn face!

I hate you. I hate hating you. I hate that I've lost sleep and friends and family because of the way I feel about you. I hate that I've abandoned my village for you. I hate that you don't even care how much I've forsaken because of you. I hate that you've haunted my every waking hour, and now you have the _sack _to stand here and look at me like I've just told you the best joke you've ever heard. _I hate you!_

܍܍܍

_Sasuke side-stepped the swing, and Neji staggered, thrown off-balance as his fist sliced through air instead of slamming against flesh and sinew and bone. In the next instant Neji felt a bone-crunching force drive the air from his lungs, and he was thrown onto his back, yards away from where Sasuke stood crouched in the finishing pose of his uppercut._

_Slowly, the Uchiha straightened and looked scornfully at his felled opposite. Neji could do nothing but writhe under the pain of his broken ribcage as Sasuke stalked ever closer towards him._

܍܍܍

How pathetic, Hyuga. Here I thought you would have the sense to at least block such an obvious blow. You might not be worth my time, even after all the years you've had to train.

That look on your face is rather appealing, though. Half hatred, half pain. Almost adorable on you; it almost makes me feel like protecting you. Except, of course, I'm the one attacking you in the first place. Don't look so angry at me — I'm not the idiot who decided he was going to attack an opponent and forget to block during his punch. I wonder how many ribs I broke; it had to be at least three or four.

Oh, come on, you big baby. Get up. You can't tell me a couple of broken ribs are more painful than that curse mark on your forehead. I know that's been used on you at least once. I would have loved to see your reaction to that — it would have been a beautiful sight, I'm sure.

܍܍܍

_Sasuke crouched close to Neji's head, smirking as the long-haired ninja glared and spat a string of curses at him. For the ferocity of his punch, Sasuke was rather patient with Neji now, not interrupting as he snarled insult after insult at the raven-haired man above him. However, it was likely that the Uchiha was simply enjoying the pain that flitted across Neji's face with each breath the man took; Sasuke's smirk quickly grew into a twisted grin as Neji's accusations became faint and strained with his agony._

_Finally, Neji quieted; it wasn't worth the pain he was in. And he was wasting time, yelling at Sasuke like a five-year-old instead of doing something — though what, exactly, he wasn't entirely sure._

܍܍܍

Dammit. Damn you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't… I wouldn't be here. I would be at home, and I would feel like I belonged there.

But no; no, because you exist, I don't belong anywhere. Not now. I gave up everything for you—I nearly died in a futile attempt to save you, and look at how you so _generously _thanked me! You bastard!

Just kill me; I know that's what you want to do. Just do whatever the hell you plan to do and let me die. Obviously I'm nothing more than practice for you. Right?

܍܍܍

_Neji spoke his thoughts after the pain in his chest subsided. Sasuke flinched at the words, jerking back as though he'd been struck across the face. His black eyes widened infinitesimally, and for several long moments he regarded th Hyuga with cold, calculating eyes. Was that truly what he wanted? No._

_But then, what exactly did he want from the young man before him? For once, Sasuke had no answer._

܍܍܍

Kill you, Hyuga? Did you expect that was my intent when you came before me today? Did you believe you were walking into a fight to the death?

You know so little about me, Neji. You know nothing of who I am now… and yet you still pursued me. Why? Was it merely a whim that brought you here today, or was it something that runs so deeply that even you can't decipher it?

܍܍܍

Damn it, Uchiha, just do it. Finish me off. What do I have to do, beg?

܍܍܍

_Neji snarled at Sasuke again, and the venom was so evident in his voice that Sasuke felt his skin should be melting under the ferocity of the other ninja's voice. A slow smirk that was not a smirk slid across Sasuke's lips, small, but not so small that Neji could not see it through his blurring vision. He blamed the shock from his wound for the appreciative smile he saw, but as his eyes closed, the smallest voice of reason — one he had so eagerly listened to for his entire life — whispered to him, "No… You are wrong."_

܍܍܍

Jeez, way to go. It takes a bunch of broken ribs and a little swearing to take you down, huh? I can't believe how weak you still are. How defenseless…

Great. "Killed my emotions," have I? An "ultimate ninja," am I? And yet I still feel for this pathetic excuse for a warrior. I can't kill him, even though he could very easily kill me. No, I want to bloody _help _him, now. I want to freaking _protect him._

Oh, here we go; _now _you wake up. What a damn pussy — _shit!_

܍܍܍

_Neji fought violently against the blackness, and threw his open hand up so that it connected with Sasuke's jaw, slamming his teeth together with a loud click. Sasuke rolled back and onto his feet as Neji staggered upright, swearing and spitting blood from his tongue, bitten halfway through in the blow. The Uchiha's face darkened with rage, but Neji could still see that psychotic pleasure burning in his onyx gaze as Sasuke finally regained his composure and wiped blood from his chin, only to have more of the fluid stain the skin under his lip again._

"_You fight dirty," he hissed at Neji. "I guess all those death threats might have something to back them up, after all." Neji scowled as his opponent chuckled. How weak did this bastard think he was, anyway?_

܍܍܍

You son of a _bitch._

What the hell do you want from me? Since you apparently don't want me dead, what else is there for you to gain by tormenting me like this?

܍܍܍

That look of despair is almost precious, Hyuga. Living with those Konoha fledglings has certainly made you soft, hasn't it? But then, you've always been rather shoddy at controlling your expressions. It's so easy to see your confusion… and your hatred.

܍܍܍

_Neji started as Sasuke suddenly appeared inches away from him. The smirk was back on the Uchiha's face, but it was contorted by the hint of a derisive snarl._

"_What's the matter, Hyuga?" he hissed. "Am I making you angry? You look like a toddler who doesn't understand why he's on time-out." Neji's lips twitched as he fought a snarl of his own, but Sasuke wasn't finished speaking. "You poor thing," he cooed mockingly. He started taking slow, circling steps around Neji, like a wolf looking for the best angle to attack from._

"_Get it over with," Neji snarled at him as his steps brought him in front of the Hyuga again. "Whatever you're planning, why don't you just do it already?"_

"_Because I'm already doing it," Sasuke answered, enunciating each word carefully, as though he were explaining something obvious to an incredibly stupid child. "Haven't you seen it yet, Hyuga? I'm trying to find your breaking point. I want to see you crumble."_

܍܍܍

Break me? Just how blind have you become, Uchiha?

You've destroyed everything I've become; I'm nothing more than another rogue ninja, and it's because of you. How much more do I need to suffer for your sake? Or do you assume that because I'm not bleeding, I can still be broken further?

܍܍܍

_Neji's face twisted in fury, and he again lunged at Sasuke, throwing the raven-haired boy onto his back. Stunned, Sasuke barely had time to get to his feet before Neji's foot came crashing down where his chest had been moments before._

"_Go to hell, Sasuke!" the Hyuga yelled, charging at him and throwing a barrage of gentle fist attacks. A few hit their marks despite Sasuke's speed, and the two broke away, panting and glaring furiously at each other._

_It was Sasuke who broke the silence first._

"_You're weak, Hyuga," Sasuke taunted his opposite. "What good are emotions? All they do is reveal your weaknesses. If you truly want to be a better ninja, why not destroy those emotions entirely?"_

"_Emotions are not weaknesses," Neji spat. There is an odd fire burning in his voice now, and an alien emotion Sasuke did not recognize replaced his previous fury, melting the anger from his snow-pale eyes. Slowly, as if he was in a daze, Neji straightened from his crouch. He flickered out of sight, and with a start, Sasuke realized the Hyuga had learned the body flicker technique over the years._

"_Emotions drive us, Sasuke." Neji's voice — and presence — reappeared behind his target. "Why else would you have left us?"_

_Sasuke turned too late, and in another moment Neji had thrown him against a tree and forced his lips against Sasuke's. Instinct—or something deeper—took hold of both young men, boys who were not adults but who held the knowledge of people twice their age._

_And it was there, alone in a forest where no enemy or friend could see them, that one dance came to an end, while another dance began. And so two boys — so alike in dignity — became one for the first of many times to come._

܍܍܍

You aren't going fast enough, Hyuga. What, are you afraid to officially become a disgrace to the village? Give me a break—and while you're at it, hurry the hell up and take your damn shirt off.

܍܍܍

You look irritated, Uchiha. Can't wait for a few seconds, can you? Even though I've waited for years.

There, the stupid thing's off… Why the hell did you have to wear something with this many straps and buttons? And you were annoyed with me for taking too long? You're a real piece of work. I might just leave the damn thing on next time…

Next time? Will there be a next time? _Can _there be a next time?

܍܍܍

What's with the face, Hyuga—_Ah!_

That _hurt,_ you bastard! Fuck, it's not like I shit lotion!

܍܍܍

Get your nails out of my shoulders, Sasu… No, never mind, keep them there. Great, it looks like I'm a masochist as much as he's a sadist. Brilliant.

܍܍܍

_Sasuke groaned as Neji thrust into him, reveling in the pain and pleasure as the two defiled the forest floor with their passion._

_Neji's shoulders pulsed, the muscles rippling smoothly as he continued to drive the Uchiha underneath him into a craze. But Sasuke surprised him, suddenly rolling their bodies until he was situated on top. His dark eyes stared into Neji's as he smirked down at his… his desire._

"_You don't get to have all the fun," he informed Neji in a thick voice. He leaned down and bit into Neji's ear as he rotated his hips around the other man's member. Beneath him, Neji growled and tensed, and again Sasuke allowed himself a short moment to admire the way his lover's muscles rippled in his pleasure._

_With one final twist, Sasuke threw himself and Neji into an inferno that consumed everything; every pretense, every lie, every protective barrier disintegrated into ash, and the two were left to face the truth together. _

_And it was there, alone in a forest where no enemy or friend could see them, that one dance came to an end, while another dance began. And so two boys — so alike in dignity — became one for the first of many times to come._

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**Author's Note: BAHAHA YOU WERE EXPECTING ANOTHER GRAPHIC YAOI! (Actually, so was I. XD) I figured I wanted to show a more platonic side of their relationship, and tried to be as realistic as I could manage with their abilities and personalities. Besides, you should be able to guess how the rest of it went. X3**

**Naughty, naughty Sasuke. And Neji. Such profane language; your fathers must be trying to hit you guys from the 'bove for that. We'll totally ignore the fact that you're sexing each other like a pair of bunnies…**

**This is probably not going to be the last NejiSasuNeji I do, but for right now I am happy to say the first quartet is finished. There may be others, and they will be very, very steamy.**

**Longest yaoi ever! 8D**


	5. Red Lily

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of the _Naruto _franchise. Except for an Itachi plushy one of my friends sold me for three dollars (that counts as part of the franchise, right?). He has such an adorable face, oh yush, he does! X3

**Explanation: **So I was looking at some ItaSaku artwork by yuna2025 on DeviantART, and I suddenly got the inspiration to write an ItaSaku oneshot. I figure if I can do three (going on four) NejiSasu oneshots when I've never done a yaoi/shonen-ai before in my life, I should be able to do an ItaSaku, too, right?

**Red Lily**

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_A young woman sits alone in the center of a small, nondescript field in the middle of the forest, kneeling as though she is paying respects to the grave of a close, unnamed friend. The slight breeze that rolls through th clearing tugs at strands of rose-colored hair as emerald eyes stare down at a small stone slab, barely-visible under the soft dirt in which it is firmly tucked. Upon the stone there is no name, no date of birth or of death. The only inscription is a solitary, meaningless character: heiwa._

_As she stares sullenly down at the dark gray slab, the girl, a woman now in her early twenties, feels a deep pang of grief well up inside her chest, a painful stabbing that bubbles into a pained outcry. She doubles over and hides her face as tears begin to fall._

_She weeps over the grave of a man she loved in secret for fear that her friends would despise her if they knew the truth. This man had driven the object of her childhood adoration to the edge of insanity, had endangered and even helped to kill one of her friends. Later, he had even killed her childhood crush himself, pushing her to the same knife's edge the boy she had loved had once fallen from. By all rights, she should have despised this man – and, for years, she wished for his death and the relief and peace she had assumed it would bring._

_And yet, when she finally had the chance to confront him a second time, things were set in motion which would eventually make it impossible to despise him anymore._

_As she closes her eyes against the stinging tears, the woman sees the image of his face, not quite smiling (he never smiled in all the years she knew him), but still somehow conveying true comfort and trust in the way his features would soften ever so slightly, so that only she could see it. In his eyes she sees contempt, but she knows by now that it was merely a show – he was a very good actor, as was demanded of him by the life he had been forced to choose. She has gained the ability, after living as his "prisoner" for so many years, to see through his pretenses and decipher the meaning behind his every word and action._

_She is able to see the smiling face, the adoration in his eyes; she can sense the love he never dared to show her._

_**An angel's face smiles to me under a headline of tragedy…**_

Itachi had killed her childhood crush nearly three years before, and the hatred in Sakura's heart had doubled until she finally stole away from Konoha to pursue him. Her plan was to kill him or die in the attempt – it was the night after she'd received word of Sasuke's death, and now that the Five Great Nations were buzzing with the news, she knew there was no way Itachi would set foot into any village for a long time, no matter how small and rural it may have been.

When she first received the news, the only word Sakura was able to utter before she blacked out was a simple negative, and denial of the terrible grievance that had been dealt to everyone who had known Sasuke.

Just a week before, Sasuke and a few other ninja had been sent on a mission to assassinate a traitor threatening to leak Konoha's weaknesses to enemy countries. While returning from their successfully-completed mission, Sasuke and his team had accidentally encountered Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's older brother and the man responsible for wiping out the Uchiha clan. Sasuke's teammates fled, having gone unnoticed by Itachi, but Sasuke had stubbornly refused to run and charged Itachi without thinking.

According to one of the ninja who witnessed the battle, Sasuke hadn't had a snowball's chance in hell against his much more powerful brother. The fight had lasted for maybe ten minutes before Sasuke was struck in the throat by one of the kunai Itachi had thrown at him. The knowledge that Sasuke died almost immediately, leaving him with no time to suffer any pain, brought no comfort to Sakura – in fact, it made her hatred worse. In her mind, it only solidified the idea that Itachi wanted his brother dead into a fact, and as she mulled and grieved over her loss, her heart began to twist with the same fury that had driven Sasuke to his death.

Her friends knew something was vitally wrong with her, but she hid the extent of her abhorrence well, and so she was able to escape the possible house arrest Tsunade would have placed her under otherwise.

The next day, Sakura packed every weapon and scroll she owned, as well as money to buy herself lodging if she would need it and military rations pills to keep her strength up. Again she played the role of the grieving female, quietly biding her time as her friends worked desperately to soothe the pain she was in. She appreciated their attempts, but knew in her heart they were futile efforts – only one thing could bring her peace now, and that was Itachi's last breath. As for her grief: the hatred that now curdled her very blood had dried the last of her tears. There was no time to cry now.

She searched for weeks, dodging ANBU and hunter ninja whenever she felt their presence and staying out of the larger villages. She couldn't afford to be caught until she'd seen this self-assigned mission through to the finish. Then, provided she survived, she would let the chips fall where they would and receive any punishment without argument, even if she lost all of her friends.

Her plan hadn't quite gone so smoothly.

She had found Itachi wandering alone still – Kisame had been nowhere in sight, and the rosette had foolishly believed that for the time being the Uchiha was alone. He gave no signal that he'd sensed her approach in any way, and in her moment of blind fury, Sakura had assumed that this meant he truly _hadn't_ realized he was being followed.

She had attacked, but he whirled at the last moment, spinning away from her on the ball of his foot. In the next second she found herself pinned against a tree, staring into dispassionate eyes the color of blood.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sakura saw Kisame jump down to stand a few feet behind his partner. The blue-skinned man had almost immediately started insisting that Itachi let him kill the rosette, but Itachi – never glancing away from Sakura's eyes for even the smallest fraction of an instant – had silenced him by stating the obvious: she was Tsunade's pupil, and the Akatsuki could use her abilities in medicine and power.

The suggestion that she would be used by the organization that had caused her friends so much agony enraged Sakura even more, but before she could struggle, something in the Uchiha's eyes changed, and she had sunk into a deep pit of blackness, having fallen victim to the potency of the Sharingan…

When she awoke, Itachi and Kisame were of course in the room, Itachi sitting calmly by the door and Kisame appearing distracted by something on the other side of the room's only window. Stationed to stop any attempts she made to try and escape.

Of course she was threatened with her very worst fears when the leader, Pein, tried to force her into compliance (it did raise her spirits in a petty way to know that they _needed _her cooperation, so low were their numbers now). When that failed to scare her into submission, they had Itachi put her through what seemed like an eternity of hell, watching Sasuke's death repeatedly for the seventy-two-hour-long second of the Tsukiyomi's effects.

Finally, broken by watching the worst tragedy of her young life not once but thousands of times, the kunoichi shattered, agreeing to cooperate under the condition that Naruto stay unharmed for another year. Sakura hoped that would give her friend enough time to realize that danger was coming and train so that he could protect himself when the Akatsuki's contract with her ended. Then, provided he survived and the right members were taken out, Sakura would be able to escape with him, back to Konoha or any other place that could fight against the Akatsuki.

They were pretty dreams, nothing more than useless fantasies meant to bring her some sort of comfort for the searing acid that burned through her whenever she was forced to heal and save a member who's mission had not gone as well as their _precious leader _had wanted it to go. Seeing that leader take his "disappointment" out on them after they were fully healed helped to take the sting away, too.

She had eventually grown used to the dark, underground caverns that were the halls of the Akatsuki's main hideout. She knew which hallway led to the bedrooms, which led to the bathrooms, meeting room, and dining hall, and which wall the interrogation room was hidden behind. She had a vague idea of where the plant man, Zetsu, nursed his herbal garden – though he frequently supplied her with medicinal herbs, the man never allowed her to visit his garden and only told her it was above ground, hidden behind several permanent illusionary jutsus to prevent intrusion from the other members or ignorant outsiders.

Another more frightening development also made itself known to her after her third or fourth month in captivity (the days had begun to mean very little to her – she didn't relish the idea of counting down the days Naruto had left before they were on his trail again): she had begun to think of several of the members of the Akatsuki as people, rather than bloodthirsty, soulless monsters – although Hidan (who had been found by Zetsu and reassembled about a month after his supposed death), Pein, and Zetsu did _not _fit into that category by any means.

The first member she started treating more humanely was Deidara, the eccentric pyromaniac Sakura had first met during her mission to save Gaara. The man was hard to despise even then – he was so carefree and almost childish in the way he sometimes behaved that Sakura sometimes felt she was dealing with someone who didn't _quite _understand how the ninja world worked, though on each of the incredibly few times she was foolish enough to voice that thought, he was quick to remind her he'd been "at the game" (his term for living as a ninja or as a missing ninja, depending on the conversation) a little longer than she had.

Though she resisted the feeling of friendship growing between herself and Deidara, Sakura eventually had to admit that if she had any friends in this hell she'd sentenced herself to, it was most likely the Akatsuki's explosions expert.

Not far behind him was Kisame, the man who had been so eager to kill her just a few months before. Though he was sadistic, crude, and sometimes a little crasser than she'd like him to be, the shark-like man was easier to get along with than Hidan, and not quite as hideous as Zetsu, so it wasn't long before she thought of her relationship with him as an uneasy acquaintanceship, if nothing else.

Actually, when she considered how strange the friendship was, it was probably similar to being friends with a Viking.

The last to be considered among the people Sakura no longer exactly _despised_ was Itachi himself. He had been instructed with keeping watch over her for the first year she was held captive, which had made communication with anyone impossible without Itachi's permission. It was like putting up with an overprotective father who feared his daughter was whoring herself out to the entire football team – except that Itachi couldn't possibly have cared less about her sex life, and really only protected her when Hidan decided it would be fun to get into a fistfight with her. In the rosette's mind, Itachi probably thought she was an even bigger disgrace than he must have seen his brother to be.

During the first several months, Itachi was Sakura's constant shadow, staying just close enough to be able to sense the tiniest shift in her chakra. It strained the relationships she built with Kisame and Deidara a little, but Kisame got over it after a while. Deidara took another week before he decided that grumbling about having a guard dog was a pretty clear indicator that Sakura didn't appreciate the Uchiha's constant presence.

Sakura never did quite understand why the fact that she didn't like Itachi at all seemed to warm Deidara to her so instantly. Apparently there was some kind of grudge between the two of them, or maybe it was just a conflict of personality types; the rosette couldn't imagine Itachi could be able to put up with someone like Deidara longer than he absolutely had to.

Itachi's constant presence had led to a few strained conversations here and there; these usually came when she was eating, or reading, or headed towards the bathroom and had opened her mouth and snapped at him. The eyes that never quite seemed to leave her face even when there was a wall between them sometimes seemed to drill into her skull with their unnerving intensity, and she was most keenly aware of his gaze when she was doing something she usually didn't have an audience for – although he was thankfully decent enough not to follow her into the bathroom.

Each time she had grumbled or even snarled at him about giving her some space, he had said nothing, and had instead looked at her with what she assumed was his version of an amused grin. His lips would twitch into the slightest of condescending smirks, lightening his usually stony face by a token amount. After the seventh time this happened, he finally voiced the thought that must have run through his mind every time she forgot herself: _"You do realize that you're about as intimidating as a kitten, don't you?" _His voice had been fairly unreadable, but he allowed a hint of his amusement to seep through, and the sound warmed his voice the way his entertained smirk warmed his face.

That was the most emotion she had heard from him – and the first time he'd ever actually _spoken _to her in all the time she had known him. He had the same irritating habit of grunting instead of actually speaking when he could get away with it; in fact, he took that habit one step further, and at times he would only blink or tilt his head just enough to convey whatever response would fit whatever question someone had asked him.

She had taken a second to recover from the shock of _finally _hearing him say something, and then she had turned her back on him without another word, hiding an enraged flush from those piercing black eyes.

After that, conversation was a little easier to strike up with him. They would talk about random things – usually the topic was something one of them did out of habit, and they never really spoke for more than a few minutes at a time. Still, it was _something_, and it made him seem a little less like a monster to the rosette's eyes, although she stilled loathed him with every last cell in her body. She never allowed herself to forget who he was or what he had done and helped to do. He was a heartless killer; to forget that was to forfeit one's chance of survival around the man.

More than once she wondered if he ever actually slept, of if perhaps he was an insomniac who didn't need as much sleep as a normal person. She tried to tell herself that it would serve the kin slayer right to be haunted by nightmares that kept even someone like Itachi from sleeping, no matter what they were about, but she never quite believed herself entirely.

After perhaps her sixth month as the Akatsuki's healer, Itachi started very subtly giving Sakura a little more room, waiting for longer periods of time before following her out of her room and turning his attention to the stack of books they shared more readily. Once he even let himself appear to be asleep before Sakura turned in – though she knew there was no way he would be _that _careless.

Conversation became a normal, though still somewhat rare occurrence between them, and sometimes branched into deeper subjects than preferred literary and musical genres. Their conversations grew in length, until they managed to spend up to thirteen minutes talking about personalities that irritated them. Sakura knew the length of their conversation because she glanced at the clock on the wall in order to avoid eye contact after accidentally blurting out that loud-mouthed idiots like Kisame could be extremely infuriating under the right circumstances.

Itachi had been silent for the length of one heartbeat, and then very quietly and calmly said, "He is annoying, isn't he?"

It was the first time that Sakura had truly laughed since she'd heard the news of Sasuke's death; the expressionless tone he had used was too much when it was used with the only degrading thing he'd ever openly said about his teammate. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she'd seen Itachi smiling, too. But of course that was impossible.

Uchihas never smiled. They just cracked jokes in order to make other people look stupid – which is what happened to Sakura when, still laughing at Itachi's nonchalant agreement, she lost her balance and fell off the bed, tried to claw her way back onto the mattress, and landed gracelessly on the floor when her hands failed to grab anything but the comforter. When she had managed to fight her way out from under the stupid comforter, she saw Itachi watching her with a full smirk on his lips. She could see his deceptively lean shoulders tremor with silent chuckling as her face flushed bright red.

_**That smile used to give me warmth…**_

That day seemed to mark a turning point in their friendship; for example, Sakura was finally able to start calling relationship a friendship, rather than a forced acquaintanceship. She even became comfortable enough to joke around with him on occasion, something that brought a strange sort of relief to the rosette, as if she had been left without humor for too long.

As more time passed, Sakura found that she was beginning to compare the members of the Akatsuki to her friends back in Konoha. Zetsu began to seem more and more like Shino each time he interacted with her. Deidara was like an older, more effeminate (at least in appearance) version of Naruto; Kisame was sort of a mix of Asuma and Kiba. Hidan was like Ibiki's evil twin brother.

Itachi was never like Sasuke, though. As the days began to mean something to her again, Sakura found herself realizing she almost _preferred _the older Uchiha to her fast-fading memories of his younger brother. It was dangerous and traitorous and downright _wrong _to think that way of an enemy, but she couldn't make herself remember any of that when she was near Itachi. It was as though his presence forced every uncomfortable thought from her mind.

Four more months passed, and suddenly Sakura found herself unable to keep from worrying as Itachi went out on mission after mission, freed at last from his commitment to keep watch over her as the anniversary of her agreement with the Akatsuki finally passed. Her latest assignment was to see to the Uchiha's deteriorating eyes to preserve his sight as long as she possibly could. She knew he overused them more than he truly needed to, and the thought that he might one day make himself so unable to see that he would be vulnerable for even the tiniest fraction of a second scared her to death. Always, as she caught herself worrying, she would scold herself and stalk off to find Deidara, who's usually bubbly mood was hard to resist even for someone who was as terrified as she was hopeful that a man who was both her most despised enemy and the secret object of her love may never come back again. Always, she would have to struggle to hide her eagerness as Deidara's face darkened at the news that the Uchiha had returned safely and needed Sakura to see to his eyes again.

With his previous orders to guard the rosette nullified by the one-year marker of her time in Akatsuki, Pein had finally granted Sakura her own room – directly across the hall from Itachi's, naturally. The rosette sometimes wondered a little bitterly how stupid they really thought she was.

Because they no longer shared a room, the only chances Itachi and Sakura had to interact were the few times they encountered each other in the surprisingly vast underground hideout and during those periods where the medic would tend to the damage that had reappeared due to Itachi's injudicious overuse of his Sharingan. It was those tender moments – as tender as they ever could become, with Sakura forced to look Itachi directly in the eye and continue to do so for sessions that last for hours on end – that seemed to tied the final cord in the braided steel cable that tied Sakura's heart to the murderer of her childhood love.

Then the day came when she remembered who the Akatsuki were.

The news came, nearly two and a half years after she first left Konoha, that a squad sent out to track down an informant for the Akatsuki had been completely demolished. Among the seven ninjas killed or permanently incapacitated were Sakura's friends: Ino, who had been the first to die; Tenten, who had tried to fight even after receiving wounds most people would have crumbled under, and who eventually died from a mixture of overexertion and blood loss; and Kiba, who was now paralyzed from his waist down because of a blow he'd taken to the back. Their attackers had been Itachi and Hidan.

Deidara was the first to feel Sakura's returning hatred – he had been amusing her as usual by creating tiny animals out of a type of clay that exploded in the same manner as fireworks when the news reached them. Pein himself had ordered Sakura to get to Itachi's room – he had returned from a mission that had left his eyes nearly sightless, and their condition was deteriorating by the minute. He had gone on to very heartlessly add that there were now seven Konoha ninja who would never look for her again before he stalked away.

Deidara's little clay boar was kicked into his face the second before he blew it up as Sakura leapt to her feet and stormed out into the hallway. He hadn't said the exact words, but Pein's meaning had to plain enough to her: people from her village, maybe even people she had known personally, had lost their lives as shinobi because of people she had foolishly let herself begin to trust.

Itachi didn't seem surprised when she all but ordered him to sit down and activate his Sharingan. The patient, emotionless façade that had been absent from his face for so long was suddenly back in place, as if he understood this was a very bad time to infuriate the rosette further by playing ignorant. That, at least, was something that put him ahead of his brother; Sasuke would have played innocent just because he knew it would piss her off.

She could see her reflection in Itachi's blood-colored eyes, and tried to focus on her work while stifling the curses and punches she very deeply wanted to throw at him now. The face she saw staring back at her from those ruby depths was not the face she was used to seeing, not even in her darkest moments of fury. It was a face she had only ever seen on Naruto's features: the face of someone who had just lost everything.

What made it worse was that she couldn't see any remorse in those eyes that seemed as bottomless as the ocean. She felt one, two, seven of the cords on the steel cable snap, each scratching shallow wounds into her chest, trying to tear into it, to destroy her from without.

Three hours later, she was finally able to restore his sight to normal – again. She shoved angrily away from him and started towards the door, but his cold, dispassionate voice stopped her in her tracks.

"What did you think we were, kunoichi?" He'd asked her quietly. _"Were you beginning to see us as people you could trust? We aren't the good guys – you were a fool to forget that."_

She had whirled, turning to glare furiously at him as she spat, _"I _never_ trusted any of you, and _you're_ an idiot for thinking I did_!" _Do not cry, _she willed herself, _Don't even think on it – not one tear. Not in front of him._

He looked at her silently, measuring her anger, seeming to dare her to put an action of any kind behind her furious denial. Only the tiniest narrowing of his eyes reminded her of one of the many things she had learned about him during the year and a half she'd spent in the Akatsuki: he hated being lied to.

Before he could say anything in response, she turned and stalked out of his room, slamming the door so hard the stone wall surrounding it cracked in several places. She even heard a large fissure open in the heavy wood of the door itself.

She treated the door to her room with only slightly less brutality, not caring that the little voice of reason in her head was forgetting to remind her how like a spoiled child she was acting. She was surrounded by enemies in this place – she could not afford to show weakness of any sort here.

The next several months seemed like years – time had halted altogether now. There was no day or night, only an endless rhythm of sleep, eat, train, avoid everyone, bathe, and repetition. Pein, angered by her behavior, had forbid her to leave her room for more than bathroom breaks. Itachi was once again her watchdog, though now he very wisely stayed outside her room and out of sight when she ventured out.

There were long, long hours where she had nothing to do but brood and berate herself for being stupid enough to _love _a bastard like Itachi Uchiha. He had killed his own family – every last member – and it had taken the deaths of her friends to make her realize that again. She felt as though she had become as naïve as she had been when she had first become a part of Team Seven. There were very few nights when she was too tired to silently cry herself to sleep.

The nights when she did not see Sasuke in her nightmares were even fewer. Itachi's old illusion of his brother's death replayed in her mind, night after hellish night, so that it was a miracle if she was able to sleep for more than a few hours each night. Some nights the memories were so painful she feared she would become an insomniac simply because she was afraid to close her eyes and face her most agonizing nightmares.

After she had been relatively calm and somewhat diplomatic for a full week, Pein released the restriction he'd placed on her movements throughout the lair, although Itachi continued to shadow her movements. They didn't speak to each other anymore – neither wanted to start an argument that could land them both in very hot water. Neither wanted to be around the other.

Deidara eventually won his way back into Sakura's good graces, providing the crying shoulder she had so very desperately needed for months – or weeks, if she had paid closer attention to the calendar. He forgave her for trying to kill him with his own explosive, even complimenting her on her speed while Itachi rolled his eyes from across the large sitting area where the only television was located.

As the friendship between pyromaniac and medic ninja began to grow anew, Itachi's attitude toward Sakura became even colder, until there were times she could swear there was ice covering every word he was forced to speak to her. His skin began to feel like cold granite when she placed her finger to his temples during their healing sessions. It was as though he'd turned into a living block of ice-stone.

One day, while Sakura was walking into the television room, Deidara threw a harmless little ladybug explosive near her feet and detonated it. The rosette had predictably shrieked when the tiny clay model exploded in a flash of color and light. In an attempt to avoid getting her toes blown off, she danced to the side, tripped over her own feet, and landed right on top of Deidara, who, after a moment of stunned silence, burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Sakura's face burned bright red as she scrambled off to sit on the opposite end of the couch from the blonde.

From across the room, Itachi had leveled a cold glare on Deidara, who only laughed even harder when he saw it. Sakura, on the other hand, tried to very subtly sink into herself as the room seemed to chill with Itachi's fury.

The Uchiha had become openly hostile towards Deidara after that, glaring and refusing to greet him or even speak to him directly. Sakura couldn't understand his behavior at all; so Deidara had thrown a mostly-harmless firework at her. That wasn't exactly an attempted murder, considering what he was like when he actually _tried _to hurt someone. It wasn't like Deidara had tried to make Itachi fail at his job of keeping watch over the medic, so why had Itachi suddenly turned so resentful of the artist?

Three weeks – weeks? Months? The days were mashed together at this point – passed, and finally the rosette had taken all she could stand of Itachi's antisocial behavior. When she caught him glaring at Deidara – again – during a rather violent game of Chinese checkers (which, when played with Deidara, involved the opponent's game pieces landing on landmines he had stuffed into the holes before the game started), she had very casually said to her friend, _"You know, Itachi's starting to bug me. A lot. All he ever does is mope and glare at you. Almost like he's jealous that I ended up landing on _you_, huh?"_

Deidara picked up the not-so subtle hint with a grin and said, "_Yeah – guess all that time as a monk's finally starting to get him, hm."_

Itachi had stiffened and stalked in a very graceful manner out into the hallway, glaring poison-tipped kunai at both of them as he passed. Sakura made sure he couldn't see them before reaching up to give Deidara a high-five.

It wasn't until Sakura finished her third let's-piss-off-the-medic checkers game with Deidara that she realized she was hungry, and Deidara laughed at her when her stomach roared like a starving lion. The rosette stuck her tongue out at her friend before stalking off towards the dining room. She figured Itachi was probably still moping in the dining room, and hesitated before shaking her misgivings away and walking into the large room.

Itachi had been in front of her almost before she'd let the door close, seeming to appear out of thin air as he had looked down at her with the closest thing to an irritated snarl she had ever seen on his perfect features. He had looked so much like Sasuke that she found herself fighting against her arms as they began the nervous quivering that signaled her desire to raise them like a feeble wall of defense – the way she had whenever Sasuke had called her irritating or told her to leave him alone.

The older Uchiha had pushed her up against the heavy wooden doors and stared down at her with a smoldering in his eyes she didn't immediately understand. She had stared back, seeing her wide-eyed reflection in those blue-black eyes as she tried to make herself think of something to say, something that would make him back off… Or at least stop glaring.

"_You shouldn't taunt me like that," _he had whispered. His voice had sent chills rolling down her spine almost at the same time that a strange warmth had filled her stomach, as intense as if she'd swallowed a fireball. _"Especially when you have no idea just how right you are."_

And then his lips had crashed against hers, and she had forgotten everything. Fear, confusion, anger… none of it lingered now; none of her past hatred remained in her veins, and the fact that at any second they might be discovered did not even flutter against the passion they shared now. There was only _him _and _her _and _that moment._

Things had never been the same after that. Each day marked an improvement in their relationship, and they breezed through friendship and close friendship until they were both able to admit how deeply their feelings for each other ran. It seemed almost physically painful to remember that, just three years before, she had wanted nothing more than to see this man die the slowest, most agonizing death possible.

She had never guessed her old desires for revenge would come to be fulfilled, with or without her consent.

_**My love in the dark heart of the night…**_

Things in the Akatsuki's lair were peaceful for one more year, and then hell had consumed everything.

She had eventually moved into Itachi's room, and Tobi – the newcomer who had _finally _been accepted into the Akatsuki after three or more years of begging and patronizing every member who was stupid enough to listen to him (including Sakura herself, though after the second time she broke a few of his ribs he had very readily left her alone) – had moved into her old room. It peeved Sakura a little, but for some odd reason it seemed to almost infuriate Itachi when he first heard the news.

Sakura tried to get him to tell her what the problem was, but he remained silent on the subject, usually very artfully changing the course of the conversation without the rosette realizing what he'd done until much later on.

With or without Itachi's silence, Sakura was able to sense that his animosity was a feeling Tobi shared – if in a slightly less aggressive and far less noticeable manner on the masked man's part.

The two men (if you could call a childlike person like Tobi a man, anyway) were careful to behave as normally as they could when they were around the others, but Sakura had more than enough experience in reading Itachi's stone-stiff features to know when there was hatred burning under his perfect façade. Sometimes he and Tobi would exchange words that seemed to be meant as blows rather than friendly banter – and Itachi wasn't one for friendly bantering to begin with, which strengthened her belief that something was very, very wrong.

On day she had been wandering through the compound when she heard Itachi say something that _sounded _like a threat in a very quietly subdued tone, as if he was worried someone would hear. The answer to his comment was made in a voice she had not heard before, one that was smoother and more predatory than his and filled with such a deep loathing and darkness that the medic felt her heart seize up with fear.

"_You can't fight me forever," _the man had growled, but his voice had sounded like a purr. _"Either help me reach my goal or stand in line and wait for your turn to die."_

Itachi hadn't responded, but Sakura felt that he was getting ready to walk away from whoever the other man was and fled quietly, hoping desperately that neither man had sensed her presence.

As the days passed, Itachi became more and more restless, going out to train almost every chance he had and wearing himself down to the point that Sakura was constantly healing his injuries. He apologized for his behavior often, something which worried her even more – he knew she didn't expect any apologies and usually stayed silent so that he wouldn't have to sit through her tirades about how she didn't expect him to change for her. Now, seeing the light of frenzied impatience enter his stoic face for the first time in all the years she'd known him, Sakura felt that it was better not to berate him for apologizing now. It would likely not help his suddenly unpredictable mood at all.

On their last night together, he was so tender and so openly loving towards Sakura that she found herself deeply terrified of the coming morning, even during those incredibly passionate hours before they sank into dormancy. It was to be the first and last night she would ever see how much he deeply, truly loved her.

The next morning dawned bleak and silent, and Sakura woke to a bed that had been empty long enough that the sheets where her body was not in contact were cold.

She had sat up, confused and, after a moment, hurt by Itachi's absence. Where had he gone? Why hadn't he woken her to say goodbye?

But the more she thought about his sudden disappearance, the more she began to feel the stomach-clenching stirrings of dread. The conversation she had accidentally overheard nearly a week before suddenly replayed in her mind, and Sakura found herself realizing that the man Itachi had spoken to may be the reason he wasn't here now.

Ice had flooded her veins; could there really be someone who could beat Itachi in a one-on-one fight? She couldn't make herself think that same person might kill the Uchiha, but it was certainly the fear of the possibility that put a sense of urgent speed into her movements as she dressed and brushed her hair.

The rosette was extremely lucky, to be able to sneak out of the compound and actually be outside for the first time in years without anyone noticing. The thought of using this chance to escape did not cross her mind, though; she could not run away now. Not until she had made absolutely certain that Itachi was still okay. She would have dealt with any punishment for leaving the base without permission as soon as she was positive he was safe… and alive.

Her plans to return to the base were shattered the moment she found him.

Nearly forty kilometers from the base, she found him alone, lying in a pool of his own blood. His chest did not move with even the tiniest of breaths; his muscles never once relaxed or tensed at the sound of her approach. His eyelids were closed as if he was sleeping, but the emptiness under them told her there wasn't much underneath but gore and more images to haunt her if she looked.

After all of the years she had spent despising him and hoping for his death, Sakura was certain that one night of passionate love would never be enough to erase from her mind the evil that she had always seen in Itachi. Now, as she knelt over his mutilated body and touched his death-cold skin, she was hit by a wave of something too horrific and crushing to be described by any words among the languages of humanity. It was a nameless, hopeless abyss of fire and ice and silence and thunder that flooded into her mind until she would have taken her own life to escape from the agony it brought. Her screams and wails echoed throughout the empty space where her love and lover lay, and as she mourned, in her mind the sky grew black and shed tears of its own. Color and reason fled the world around her, until everything was shades of grey – everything but the corpse of the man for whom she had turned against everything.

_**I have lost the path before me…**_

Sometime later – hours or days, she didn't care – Deidara found her near the border of the Land of Waves. The rosette had run away after a few hours of sitting motionlessly next to Itachi's corpse, no longer caring whether or not she would be killed for deserting the Akatsuki.

"_They'll all think you're dead," _Deidara had told her. _"I'll bring back your cloak and tell them you tried to attack me, hm. The thing's torn up enough that they'll believe me, and you'll be free to go back to Konoha, hm."_

Sakura had vaguely wondered why he was being so helpful, but she didn't voice her confusion as she handed the ragged cloak to him. The blonde had given her a long, unreadable look before hopping back onto his clay bird and disappearing into the sky.

_**The one behind will lead me…**_

She was found a short time later by Naruto and a group of other Konoha ninjas whose names she could only guess at. She was taken back to Konoha and worried over for many long months before it was determined that she was stable enough to live on her own again.

It was two weeks later, when Kakashi came to check on her, that Sakura finally admitted the truth, spilling out every memory she could summon of the last few years – however many they had been. Kakashi had been horrified at first, and while he never told anyone else, it was a few weeks before he was able to visit her again. The rosette had waited until he was comfortable with discussing the matter before asking him to help her with something she should have done months before. To her relief, he agreed, and there had been a look in his eye that made her sure that he'd come to terms with her love for Itachi.

At midnight a few nights later, they had snuck out of Konoha and created a small stone slab at ground level. They didn't inscribe Itachi's name or his dates of birth and death; instead, they carved the character for what they now both hoped he would receive wherever his soul was now: heiwa.

The deed done, Kakashi had left the rosette alone to give her the time to mourn as she should have been able to.

Years passed, and though Naruto and Lee tried to win her affection, Sakura found herself feeling foul whenever she allowed them to take her on dates or hold her hand. She felt no warmth for any of them, and saw them as nothing more than friends. She allowed them to believe she had been permanently scarred by her time with the Akatsuki; it was much safer than admitting to them the truth, that someone they all despised already held her heart.

_**No love left in me; no eyes to see the heaven beside me…  
**_

_The young woman rises, wiping tears from her eyes as she gazes one last time at the only thing left of her forbidden lover. The wind swirls, and leaves dance around the rosette. A small, sad smile graces her features, and she turns to leave feeling strong again, knowing that having something to remember him by is what makes things so much easier to bear._

_A warmth enters the wind as if summoned by her thoughts. She closes her eyes and imagines strong arms around her, warm breath at her ear. In that moment, she is certain he is there with her._

_And maybe… maybe he always will be._

_**My time is yet to come, so I'll be forever yours…**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Author's Note: **The songs I used are "Angels Fall First," "Ghost Love Score," "Gethsemane," and "Forever Yours," and are all preformed by Nightwish (the best band _ever_).

This was actually really fun to write, once I stopped thinking Itachi would pop out of nowhere, read it, hate it a lot, and kill me. And is it just me, or did I break the record for longest oneshot ever with this? (Can't. Write. Short. Stories. Ah!)

Sorry the end sucks so hard – this monster needed to _end. _Gah.


End file.
